Thanks for the reviews everyone! I was a bit apprehensive about the amputation idea…wondering how everyone will react, but I guess it went over okay, maybe a bit shocking for some. (smile)

To mushi-azn: Why must I always put Sanji through pain? A deeply philosophical question. (ponders) Well…such trials are good for his character development…or maybe the author is a sadist who liked to see well-loved characters suffer. Hmmm…definitely the former I think. (nodding sagely) Alright, I'll write something in which Sanji is relatively pain-free and reasonably happy next time, okay? (grin)

On with the story…

Fire and Ice

The thin column of mercury shimmered as he angled it this way and that, squinting to make out the reading in the dim light.

There was no change, there hadn't been any all day.

"Damn!" He swore, starting to slam the thermometer down on the table, only to remember that it was fragile at the last moment and set it carefully down instead, opting to express his frustration with another curse.

Between trying to keep Usopp quiet as he fired off suggestions alongside tales of his time as a great doctor, and stopping an overzealous Luffy who tried to stuff limes down the cook's throat every time his back was turned, Zoro felt his temper worn too short already. It was a wonder the cook hadn't died from their ministrations. Finally, at the end of his tolerance, he had chased them both from the cabin to sleep in the storage hold.

Zoro heaved a deep sigh. For the thousandth time it seemed, he dunked the towel into the cool water, wrung it out, then pressed it to Sanji's fevered brow.

The fever had not cooled even a degree and Sanji showed no sign of waking. Sometimes, he lay silent, as still as death. Other times, he tossed about, muttering unintelligibly; whether tormented by bad dreams or the pain from his wound Zoro could never tell. But he knew with grim certainty, that as long as the fever did not break, the cook was unlikely to regain consciousness.

If this was to go on…

Sanji moaned appreciatively against the cool comfort of the damp towel but paradoxically shivered at the chill. His thin frame shook convulsively for a moment from a sudden fit of coughing, making his already labored breathing even shallower.

He twitched, brows knitting with pain as Zoro stretched out his arm and started picking at the bandages to clean the wound. Bringing the lamp closer, he scrutinized the wound closely, lightly touching the swollen flesh and testing the edges of the cut gingerly, seeking for a sign of improvement.

Seeking, although he already knew he would find none.

His shoulders slumped. For a moment, he sat very still, his hand closed over the long slender fingers. Sanji's hands were very cold, he noted absently, contrasting sharply with heat of the inflamed wound and the fire that raged within him.

The fever was, slowly but surely, burning the life right out of him.

And he was helpless to do anything about it.

The band of ice around his heart tightened just a little more, involuntarily. He looked away from his charge and stared out of the window. Night had fallen and it was dark outside. With the ship so quiet at this late hour, the thoughts crowding his mind were disturbingly loud, urging him reconsider his earlier brashness.

What if the fever wouldn't break? What if Sanji never woke? What if that shitty cook died because he screwed up by choosing his dream over his life?

Zoro buried his face in his hands with a low growl of frustration. He barely knew where his original conviction came from. Although he loathed admitting it, he was beginning to think that perhaps, just perhaps, Nami was right after all…

Abruptly, he straightened with an angry shake of his head, trying to dislodge the 'what ifs' chasing around in his mind. He fixed the infection with a dark, determined scowl.

This was a battle. No different from any of the other fights he had been in. He had chosen a side and he would do his best, stick it out, to whatever end it might lead.

Sanji groaned, shifting restlessly under the blankets, entire body tensed as he struggled against an unseen enemy.

The cook had a strong spirit. He wouldn't give up without a fight. And Zoro imagined if he were awake and knew his doubts, he would surely have kicked him half a dozen times in the head for it.

He smiled, a feral grin some may say, as he continued to glare at the injury.

A battle. Now this, this he could understand.

A swordsman's techniques, especially his, were suited for fighting alone and he was certainly used to facing down opponents on his own. But the first time Sanji was with him during a battle, he had been amazed at how well they fought together. That had been back at Arlong Park, when he was half-dazed by fever and pain from the fresh wound from Mihawk, but he still noticed it.

The cook fought admirably on his own such that he never had to look out for him unlike how he sometimes did for Nami and Usopp, yet he was always aware of him even in the thick of things. Somehow, with danger pressing in on all sides, they could still sense each other, a tacit understanding between them on exactly what needs to be done, subconsciously complementing each other's attacks.

A well-placed kick to guard an unprotected back. A timely blade to intercept an unnoticed blow.

Besides, fighting against the cook every day made fighting alongside him…comfortable.

Zoro smiled again, but this time, rather contemplatively. Yes, like all the other battles, he and Sanji would face this one together.

And they hadn't lost a single fight yet.

"So help me here, shithead." He muttered warningly as he felt the fist in his hand relax when Sanji fell back into quiet slumber. "Cause if you don't, I'm going to drag you out from hell, pummel you, then kick you right back there again myself."

The room was dark, the lamp purposely set to burn low, leaving most of the room in deep restful shadows. Silently, Nami stood unnoticed in the doorway and watched the swordsman. He sat by the couch, his broad back half turned towards her, bending over to study Sanji's injury by the pale circle of light.

Suddenly, he sagged a bit with a small sigh, his fingers tightened almost unconsciously around their crewmate's hand.

Nami bit her lip. After their fiery outburst that morning, she had avoided Zoro like plague, not wanting another confrontation. At first, there was fury, hot anger that the block-head was too thick to see the severity of the situation and had the nerve to threaten her with a drawn sword.

Then, there was hurt. The animosity between him and the cook was obvious from the beginning but they were still crewmates. How could he be so callous when it was Sanji's life at stake? And it hurt to see the way he spoke and acted, as if he thought she cared for the cook even less than he did. Couldn't he see that it pained her to decide on the amputation? Couldn't he understand that she much rather have an alive, albeit handicapped, Sanji with them than to bear losing him completely to death?

But eventually, it was worry that overshadowed all those other feelings, leaving her unable to concentrate on anything all day. Now, she only wanted to know how Sanji was doing and she felt she already had her answer just by taking in the bleak scene before her.

Then, just as sudden as he had lapsed into the somber mood, Zoro straightened with newfound determination. With methodical efficiency that came with doing the task many times, he cleaned the wound mechanically. He splashed on some rum and frowned at the mere centimeter left sloshing around in the bottle with a mumble that sounded vaguely like 'bloody waste of rum'.

She cleared her throat delicately to get his attention.

He tensed, his head whipped around sharply to look at her. Eyes narrowed with recognition, his hand went immediately to one of his swords propped up against a nearby wall.

She sighed, exasperated at his unfriendly welcome. "You'll find this works better than rum." She held out the bottle of antiseptic and shook the packet of fever medication in front of her as peace offerings. "And maybe these pills might help him rest easier. I found them in the medical kit Kaya packed for us."

Zoro watched her without a word, his dark eyes wary. Then he nodded, drawing his hand away from the sword and took the items from her. She sat down beside him, her heart constricted when she saw how pale Sanji seemed and the pain etched visibly in his features.

"So how's he?" She asked, breaking the awkward silence as Zoro opened the bottle, soaking a wad of cotton liberally with the antiseptic.

"The same." He shrugged indifferently, dabbing at the wound, eyes focused and intent on his task, although Nami thought she detected a hint of tension in his voice. "He hasn't woken up yet."

"Hmmm…he won't as long as the fever stays." She mused, smoothing back the sweat-dampened blonde hair to rest a gentle hand on his forehead.

"I know." This time, she heard the strain in his voice clearly.

"Zoro." She turned to face him. "It's not too late. We could still…"

"No!" He cut her off angrily, louder than he intended. He cast a glance at Sanji before repeating his reply, more softly but with no less resolve. "No."

She had meant to have a calm, rational discussion with him but her anger rose at his stubbornness. "Zoro, please!" She hissed, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and forcing him to look at her. "This is serious! I know you hate Sanji and probably only tolerate having him on board because Luffy said for him to join us. But a life is at stake!"

Her voice trembled as she looked pleadingly into his impassive steel grey eyes. "You've got to understand. Sanji can die if we don't do something!"

She had expected him to reach for his swords again or at least yell at her, so she was surprised when he did neither. "I got to understand?" He laughed softly, as if amused, shaking his head. Calmly, he loosened her fingers from their grip around his shirt and turned away, busying himself with fresh dressing for the wound.

She frowned, nonplussed. His uncharacteristically placid response irritated her. "What's that supposed to mean?" She demanded.

He sighed, tying the ends of bandages together to secure it. "Nami." He said, with just a touch of annoyance. "I know you care for Sanji and think that an amputation is best for him. And I don't deny that it would probably save his life."

"But you know what his hands mean to this idiot. If he were to lose them, lose his dreams…" He studied the unconscious young man grimly, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "We can't do this to him…It'll destroy him."

"Are you saying that it's better for him to die then?" She retorted, not bothering to hide her accusing tone.

"You have dreams too, surely you understand?" He glared at her, raking a frustrated hand through his cropped green hair. "To live, yet unable to do the very thing that gives your life meaning…stuck in a miserable existence…" Unable to find the right words to express himself, he gave up with a growl.

"Sometimes, there are worse fates than death."

Then as if the matter was settled, he picked up the fever medication started to read the label. "Besides, dumbass here whines too much already." He griped tersely. "He'll be absolutely unbearable if he wakes to find his arm gone."

Nami fell silent, suddenly thoughtful as she watched the swordsman. He ignored her, shaking out two tablets and crushed them carefully before adding the powdered pills to some water. Swirling the glass to mix, he slipped a strong arm under Sanji's shoulders and sat him up. Sanji slumped against him, his head lolling against his shoulder but stirred slightly when the glass was brought to his lips. He swallowed reflexively as Zoro tipped the glass back to let some of the mixture slide into his mouth.

Then, he choked on the bitter liquid. Making an incoherent sound of distress, he pushed out blindly with one hand, nearly upsetting the medicine as he tried to shove it away.

"Shit!" Zoro cursed, steadied the glass and tilted it back further, forcing him to take more of the medicine with such brute force Nami almost jumped up to stop him. "Drink, you idiot!" And when Sanji started coughing violently, gasping for breath, he whacked him hard between the shoulder blades and that somehow managed to keep the medicine down.

"Bastard." Zoro grumbled sourly, wiping at the stray drops on the cook's chin and mouth. "Always so much bloody trouble." But she saw a hand reach up to rub distractedly at his back where he had hit him, as if in apology.

She smiled suddenly. In the past months they had been sailing together, she often wondered why Luffy hadn't chosen someone else to be their cook. After all, they didn't need gourmet dishes at every meal. Anyone who could turn up decent food would serve just as well. Especially when the fights between Zoro and Sanji grew so vicious they threatened to rock their ship off course, she found herself thinking in despair why Luffy couldn't have chosen someone who would antagonize Zoro less.

Now as she watched the swordsman settled the cook to lie back down on the couch, still swearing venomously under his breath, his movements crisp and perfunctory but not without a barely noticeable trace of concern as he drew the blankets higher up around his crewmate's shoulders, she thought she was finally beginning to understand.

They worked well together, like true nakama should, even if it was in their own strange little way.

"What are you smirking at?" Zoro's annoyed voice broke her reverie.

"Nothing." She smirked for real this time. He folded his arms firmly across his chest, clearly not believing what she said.

"I still think that you are making a big mistake and I hate the fact that you're stronger than me so I can't bludgeon you into seeing things my way." She said, jabbing a finger at his chest with every point she made, finishing off with the bossy attitude she knew always irritated the hell out of him. "So I guess we'll just have to see who's right about this."

"But," She sighed, turning serious as she stole a glance at their crewmate who lay struggling for life. "I hope for all our sakes, you are."

Author's note: A comment on Nami. She and Zoro both care for Sanji and want to do what each thinks is best for him. Nami does have a very valid point and she just isn't willing to take as much risk as Zoro is prepared to. Basically, there isn't exactly a right or wrong decision for this. So I hope my poor storytelling skills didn't make her come across as being too heartless or cruel in her decision.